Owner of a Broken Heart
by DoctorWhovian18
Summary: Title taken from 'Owner of a Lonely Heart' by Yes. Tag to 'Heart'. Dean can see that Sam is broken when he comes out of Madison's apartment, but does he know just how deep it goes? And can he help put Sammy back together? Well, he'll be damned if he doesn't at least try. After all, it's his Sammy.


**I just re-watched 'Heart' and really needed something after the screen went black. When I originally watched that it was the first time I cried at a SPN episode. Man, Jared's acting just kills. So I was struck by inspiration and had to get this down.**

 _Bang._

The flinch that went through Dean like a shockwave was involuntary.

He truly hadn't believed Sammy could do it.

But he had, because when he came out of the room several minutes later, his face and shirt were splattered with blood.

 _Madison's blood._

Dean felt an invisible hand clench around his heart as his brother briefly looked up.

Sam's eyes looked like the pits of Hell, black and emotionless but deeply _, deeply_ in pain.

Dean hated the whole situation. He hated that there was no cure. He hated that Madison was innocent in that she didn't remember the acts she committed when turned. He hated that bastard that turned her, although even _he_ didn't even know what he was doing.

But most of all he hated the fact that this sweet, intelligent girl was the first woman since Jessica that Dean could tell Sam actually felt something for.

He had suspected, but it was the look in Sam's eyes when he realised he would have to shoot her that convinced Dean. And wasn't that just Sam's luck? The love of your life dies, and over a year later you finally meet someone who accepts and loves you back even after knowing the truth...and she's a werewolf.

 _Dammit, Sammy_.

With halting, stumbling steps, shaking hands – thankfully empty of the gun – and tear-stained cheeks, Sam shuffled towards him. Dean prepared himself, ready to catch his brother either emotionally or physically, but Sam surprised him.

He walked straight past.

And before Dean's mind could catch up enough to move, Sam was gone. Out the door. A second later, the rumble of the Impala sounded loud and clear, before fading away.

Dean let out an annoyed huff and pulled his hand down his face. It was the typical nature of their family _not_ to seek comfort from one another in times of hardship. It had taken several months and shots of scotch before Sam had finally broken down about Jessica. Dean had pushed it because, though he always followed through with his _no chick flick moments_ rule, Sam had needed it, and Dean always gave Sam what he needed.

But now, Sam needed help again and he was running away.

Dean knew he wouldn't be gone forever...he was just worried what state he'd be in when he returned. But he also knew that it would be both extremely difficult and pointless to try and follow him.

So, Dean set to work on what needed to be done.

He locked most of the conscious part of his mind on repeat of Metallica songs as he cleaned up the 'crime scene'. It was the only way he could cope.

He would burn Madison's body. It was both fitting, for she showed bravery to rival any hunter, and convenient...

Except he couldn't do anything until he had his car back.

He wiped the chair and floor clear of blood after wrapping Madison's body in a bed sheet, then cleared the place of any fingerprints, which basically meant the entire house because Dean could only guess what Sam had touched while there. He especially made sure to pile up the bedding in Madison's room to be burnt as well.

He nearly lost it at that point, because he had been trying to get Sammy hooked up with a girl all year, and now...

It was late afternoon by the time Dean heard the Impala pull up again.

Sam had returned as a machine. He walked in, no emotion whatsoever showing on his face. His movements were robotic and he only spoke as much as necessary.

He helped Dean get Madison's body and the sheets into the back of the car, despite the fact that Dean insisted to do it himself. They checked over the place one last time, knowing the police would just assume that the 'animal' they'd been blaming for the other attacks had taken Madison while she was out for a walk.

Sam was dead silent as Dean drove out of town a short way to a clearing in the forest, and as they built the pyre. When Madison's body rested upon it and the entire structure had been doused in gasoline, Dean expected him to say _something. Anything._

Nope. He just turned away and went to sit in the car.

"I'm sorry." Dean whispered, knowing that would never be enough, before throwing the lighter onto the wood.

He waited until he was sure it would burn completely, without spreading, before getting in the car himself and driving back to the motel.

 _Come on, Sam, talk._

Dean wanted to ask what had happened when Sam left. Where he went. But he didn't.

He thought he would have to try the alcohol method again, but to his absolute shock, Sam beat him to it.

As soon as they got inside the room, Sam went to the fridge and didn't just grab a beer, he grabbed the bottle of Jim Beam...

 _...and started drinking straight from the bottle._

That was when Dean knew truly how bad it was. He was the drinker out of the two of them. Not Sam. As far as Dean knew, Sam had only ever gotten drunk because Dean or another friend had made get drunk. He knew that hadn't changed at college because, though Sam seemed less averse than he used to be after Jessica, he would never actually go to the fridge and get himself a drink unless Dean offered him one.

But now, there Sam sat, taking long swigs from the bottle in his hand and staring off into nothingness.

"Sam."

Sam's tired, dead eyes looked up. He still didn't speak.

"Put the bottle down, Sam."

His little brother looked at the bottle, as though surprised to see it there, then turned back but did not put it down.

Dean sat down on the tiny chair next to the pathetic excuse for a table the motel provided. He moved cautiously, not quite sure what he was afraid of but not wanting to startle Sam with anything.

Several more long drinks later and Sam's eyes were already getting less clear. He always was a lightweight.

"Why isn't there a cure, Dean?" he asked suddenly.

Yep, Dean thought, he's reached the talkative point. He wasn't too keen on _how_ Sam had reached it, but he'd take what he could get.

Again, he proceeded with caution. "I think because no-one has ever bothered to find one. No one has ever cared enough about someone who was a werewolf before."

Sam shook his head. "Hunters have been around for over a hundred years. Nobody _ever_ had a family member, or loved one, who was turned?"

"They possibly did." Dean said. "But maybe they hit the same dead-end we did. If they spent time looking for a cure, the person who was turned would just kill more people."

This time Sam nodded, dully.

Then he went down a much darker road, a road Dean thought he'd covered with Jessica's death but clearly this had only opened the stitched up old wound.

"Why do people around me die?" Sam took his longest drink yet from the bottle, which the previous night was half-full and now was only about an inch from the bottom.

 _Oh, Sammy..._

"They don't." Dean said, almost automatically.

Sam snorted, but it lacked any amusement. "The demon killed mum six months after I was born, and the same thing happened with Max so you can't tell me that's a coincidence. Then it killed Jess. We know it's after me, so it goes after the ones I care about." Sam's voice changed then, sounding like it was slightly choked. "After it got dad...I know you blamed yourself, but it was on me, Dean. If it wasn't after me, it wouldn't have even come near dad, or been able to possess that truck driver."

Sam took a deep, shaky breath and raised the bottle to his lips again. Dean reached across and pulled it away, taking it out of Sam's grasp with barely a fight.

"And this time it was even worse." Sam's voice continued as though he hadn't paused, now only a whisper. "Because no demon burned her or stopped her heart. No...it was literally me, this time, as though the universe is just taunting me. _It was your fault anyway, so what difference does it make if you're actually pulling the trigger?_ "

His voice broke.

As though they had been merely waiting for the right moment, the tears started sliding down Sam's cheeks. Dean saw them seconds before Sam hid his face in his hands, leaning on his knees.

Dean was shaken by what he had heard. He knew Sam carried guilt for Jess, and even for their mother, but he hadn't thought that their father was also involved. And now how he viewed the situation with Madison...

He got off the chair and kneeled down in front of Sam, placing his hands on his brother's shaking shoulders.

"Listen to me," he murmured sternly. "None of these are your fault, alright? None of them. You didn't ask for Yellow-eyes to come after you. You didn't do anything wrong to start this. You were a freaking _baby_ , Sam, when mum died. It was _nothing_ you did. So if you want to blame someone, blame that yellow-eyed son of a bitch who, for some reason, has it in for you. Jess? You know you couldn't have saved her even if you told her the truth. Dad made his own choice and sold his soul to save me. Hell, that's a deal which I still don't think is fair trade, but it is _not. On. You._ " Dean took a deep breath of his own. "And you _know_ we had no choice with Madison. Our job is saving people, Sammy, and we saved countless people that she would have unknowingly killed. We saved her, too, because the more she killed, the more damned her soul became. You saved her, Sam, and I know that wherever she is now, she is thanking you for it."

With that he pulled Sam into a hug, their family's stupid rules be damned.

Sam let go, sobbing into his shoulder until he was dry. Dean felt him grip the back of his shirt tightly and got the message.

 _Thank you._

When he had finally calmed down, Dean pulled away. He looked directly into Sam's eyes and waited.

Sniffing, Sam nodded.

That was all Dean needed to know. His brother would be alright, now. Maybe not fully right, maybe never again, but he would be okay.

And okay, they could both do.

 **It was the image in my head of Sam pushing past Dean to leave Madison's apartment that started this, and then it just took on a mind of its own. I hope it came out well. Please leave a review if you have a moment, and thank you for reading ^_^**


End file.
